'The day is yours, and yours also the night; you established the sun and the moon.
It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth; you mad both summer and winter.'
~Psalms 74:16-17~
Frank without his wife, Andrea thought, twisting a finger in the phone cord. And June without her mate. They're actually able to console each other in a way Terry and I couldn't.
By the time she'd met Terry, his mother Bonnie had already past away due to a burst appendix that went unchecked. But she'd met the family's two Rottweilers, June and Ward. A match made in Heaven; until some crackhead had used Ward for target practice. Sometimes, Terry wasn't sure who grieved more; his father or June.
They're not just grieving people though. Andrea lingered with the receiver, looking past Frank's shoulder and out into the night. She longed to see the same avenue that he did. Not the de-spiraling neighborhood of cracked cement, dented trash cans, and a minimum requirement of five deadbolts on your front door. No, she wanted to visit the one with wide open doors and front yards alive with flowers. Where people honked as they passed, or braked to have a chat with a familiar face. Terry had told her about racing bikes with his brother down a golden autumn evening, their parents strolling arm-in-arm far behind them. But no matter his stories, no matter how deep Frank's memories, the truth remained. It no longer existed.
It existed for Frank. Andrea considered him again, drawing out of her mind mournfully. For Frank, for Bonnie... for Terry.
The memories were surely alive for others too. After the 60s and all its riots, the old Warren Avenue seemed like all the older generation could talk about. Things were never like this in the old days, they need to get things back to the way they were... Yet, their own words hadn't been enough to make them stay.
"They're sending a unit out to do a sweep." Andrea finally spoke out, realizing she needed to hang up the phone and get back to her chair beside Frank.
"We're lucky they're coming at all." Frank grumbled as she sat down.
"Well, it is their job." Andrea stated. "It was once yours."
"I'm the only reason they're even driving down here." Frank grueled his knuckles over June's ears. She whined and moved her head over to Andrea's knee. Frank sighed. "Once I'm gone, they'll happily turn their backs on this block. Then it'll just grow, in all directions, too fast for them to turn around and actually do something."
Andrea's face paled at the thought of Frank being gone. She was only just getting to know him, the stubborn porcupine that he was when it came to new people. When Terry had introduced her, there had been little more then a nod and a 'I hope you at least have some class in you.' Oh yes, there had been speed bumps. Of course, by then, the department had had to retire him.
Retiring had been hard on Frank. It hadn't been old age, but an old shrapnel injury from Vietnam. The doctors retrieved the few pieces, but they'd already done their damage to his spinal chord. Needless to say of a man who had never let the grass grow under his feet, confinement to a wheelchair had been a harsh adjustment- still was, perhaps. Yet, it didn't slow him down either.
"You raise more then enough noise to make them care." Andrea reaffirmed to Frank, smiling at the determination his actions always echoed. "And there're are people that still do. Terry's one of them." She rubbed a hand into his shoulder. "He'll watch their backs, you'll see."
"What've I said about being coddled, Andrea."
His sternness pushed her back a bit, but Andrea had learned to absorb the blows rather then be knocked down. "Frank-"
"We all turned our backs," Frank leaned forward, as though to challenge the bars that protected his window. "We let the younger generation get away with too much, let them think that they knew what was best... now it's up to my son and the few alongside him to fix what we couldn't."
This man... Andrea sighed, nudging June off her knee. "No generation's perfect, Frank."
"No." Frank agreed, sagging back into the grove of his wheelchair. "Perfect passed away with Bonnie."
Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. If you read the Bible long enough, you found that perfect couldn't exist on earth. Her own father would've been a few years older then Frank, if the alcohol hadn't killed him ten years back. Whatever money Mom managed to hide from his addiction, went to her brother, the firstborn of the family. She was given no love, no consideration, and lit out of there when she was sixteen. She had figured it out for herself from there. Without God, she might not have made it.
How many others haven't... or won't? Andrea found herself asking. She glanced out the window, past and bars and across the street to the abandoned house that faced them. The faint glow from the second floor told her that the users had arrived. Frank had been attempting to find out who the supplier was; no luck. No one was willing to relieve the damage that was being done... no one seemed to care.
How? How did something fall so far? Worse yet, how did it manage to repeat the same fall, night after night?
"Andrea," Frank finally looked over at her, his blue eyes faltering under his wrinkled brow. "Do me a favor? Smile."
The request, while odd from its speaker, made Andrea's lips spread immediately. Frank took it in and his countenance softened. "My heart swelled when my wife did that, smiled. And I see my boy's face perk up every time he thinks about it."
Andrea hoped that the shadows hid the blush creeping up her cheeks.
"I want you to realize the special hold you have," Frank went on. "Giving a smile when... you're surrounded by... darker things."
Andrea eyed this stoic, sweet man, only to be jarred by the melody of breaking glass. June erected her head along with Frank's. Andrea stopped her hand from reaching for her gun. She kept it close for a reason, but she tried not to think about it. She just held her breath with Frank and June as a car coasted down the avenue. Under the bulbs that were still whole, Andrea caught the glint of the glass bottles before they shattered against the asphalt.
"How does it come to this?" Andrea shook her head, drawing her thumbnail to her mouth.
"It's human nature." Frank watched the car vanish, tail lights blinking like mad red eyes in the dark. "People think they can get away with it, if they only show it at night. That's why most come to dread nightfall."
He paused, then his voice came back, thoughtful and reserved. "I've had to coax frightened people from their barricaded apartments before they starve themselves to death. They count the minutes until the night's over and daylight comes to save them. They think the night holds no hope and no light. But, I always thought different. That the night's full of chances to set things right from the day." He sighed, coming out of his tunnel. "I talk too much."
The most I've ever heard you talk, period. Andrea hid a chuckle. "And now Terry's out there taking the same chances you once did. He got the chance to meet me, so..." she made a show of smiling at him. "I think you did alright."
George's face regained some of its guard. "You think I'm justifying my actions to you?"
"You're explaining them to me, aren't you?" Andrea said, stroking June's head as she begged to be petted. "You did right by Terry. Staying a policeman, putting long hours into the community that he was being raised in. He's following your work because you got him to believe so strongly in it."
George heard her- his five senses were sharper then most kids still in the neighborhood. But he merely kept his vigil, watching the dark and depressed street. "Another thing about the night that people forget; God made the stars."
Andrea let their conversation fall to silence. She knew what George meant.
~To Be Continued at Dawn~
I was very glad that Mark put in a good word for your book this morning.
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